


come morning light

by englishsummerrain



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/pseuds/englishsummerrain
Summary: Two boys, a city dressed in fog, a blanket, and a shaky heart.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Park Jisung, Huang Ren Jun/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 14
Kudos: 71





	come morning light

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally written for the speedwrite prompt 'blanket'.

The morning brings what must be one of the last true fogs of the season. It’s murky and dark and everywhere Renjun looks are shades of grey and blue, like someone had taken a paint sampler from the store and just pointed at random until they’d coloured the whole world in. The only things to break it up are the splashes of green and orange on the convenience store signs and the lights of the scooters as they rush down the alleyway. Most of the cafes are shut, restaurants not opening before noon, and all the stalls that normally line the streetsides are folded up, canvas flags holding their menus rolled up and tied down.

Renjun takes a sip of his coffee and leans on the balcony of their dormitory, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and earphones piping whatever ballad Donghyuck had last recommended to him directly into his ears.

It’s a brisk, cool scene. If he lets his focus slip and his eyes cross he could pretend he was at sea, or sitting in the midst of a great snowglobe — trapped in a ball of cotton wool that dulls his senses and makes it so he doesn’t have to think anymore. 

God, Renjun wishes he didn’t have to think. He’d expected the comeback exhaustion to help, but if anything it’s made it worse. Every moment he’s not on stage — every moment he isn’t moving — is another moment where his mind runs awry. It feels like he’s opened his eyes for the first time in a year and he’s seeing everything anew. 

There’s a light breeze and it curls around his bare ankles — brushing against the skin between where his pants end and his slippers begin. It’s chilly, carried off the mountains probably, kisses of the last snow clinging desperately to the rocks. Worming its way to his bones — not that Renjun doesn’t already feel frozen.

The song ends and in the beat of silence between the last piano chord and the next he hears the door open behind him. He turns to find Jisung — eyes bleary, hair sticking up at weird angles, oversized hoodie hanging off his frame and baring the moles on his collarbones to the air. 

“Hey, hyung,” he says. His voice is low and rough with sleep — not quite warmed up yet. Not ready for the stage — not that he needs it. It’s their day off today. Renjun didn’t plan to be up this early, but he finds it harder and harder these days to sleep with Chenle in his bed.

“Hey,” Renjun says. He reaches into his pocket to pause his music. Jisung shuffles beside him and pulls the blanket up, ducking under it and leaning against Renjun like an oversized dog. He’s still warm — he must have really just woken up.

“What’re you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

Renjun shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

If it was anyone else — Donghyuck, Jeno, fuck, even _Jaemin_ — Renjun wouldn’t talk. But it’s Jisung. He knows what he says is earnest. They could just stand here for an hour if he wanted, and Jisung would be content. There’s a reason they get along so well — they’re the same in so many ways. Jisung doesn’t mind the silence. It’s just as rewarding as talking for him. 

A car honks its horn on the main street and someone’s dog starts barking. The fog is thick and heavy, and it feels like they’re an island in the storm, trying to weather it out. Renjun’s mouth opens and shuts and Jisung breathes deep, exhaling in clouds through his nostrils that make him appear like a dragon.

“I think,” Renjun says. Jisung makes a small noise, something in the back of his throat, like an exclamation point verbalised. Nothing more. “Shit, Jisung.” 

It feels more and more ridiculous the more he thinks about it. What’s he even admitting? It’s something silly. There’s nothing wrong with having feelings. And yet it sticks in Renjun’s throat like a lump of barely chewed food — he doesn’t know if he should swallow or spit it back up.

“What is it?” Jisung leans against him. “It’s alright.”

“Do you know…” he starts, then peters off. The fog is strange, hazy wisps of sunlight floating through, satellite antennas sticking out of it like soldiers in the gloom. Might as well come out with it. “I slept with Chenle in Thailand.”

Jisung breathes out a sigh, hand coming up to clutch at Renjun’s shoulder. God, he’s so _large._ Renjun feels dwarfed by him in every way possible.

“I know,” Jisung says. “I mean, I guessed.”

It’s a strange feeling. Like the bottom of Renjun’s stomach has dropped out, landed at his feet and rolled off the balcony. He almost hears it fall — a great woosh in his ears.

“Yeah,” he says. It’s weak. His fingers flex in the fabric of the blanket and Jisung hums, a tune that seems oddly familiar.

“I saw you kiss him after the concert.”

It’s probably bad that Renjun doesn’t know exactly what instance he’s talking about. Renjun kissed Chenle _a lot_ in Thailand. It was like a dam had been broken, some unspoken promise agreed upon and then shattered. Renjun couldn’t have kept away from him if he’d tried. Backstage, in their hotel room, in the bathroom in a restaurant when they could hear Jaemin’s laughter muffled through the door. Chenle flipping his jacket up in the hotel hallway and covering Renjun’s head with it to pull him closer. It’s all there and it’s seared against his brain — the genesis of this storm.

“When?”

His curiosity did always get the better of him.

“In your hotel room. I went back to get something and you guys were —” he peters off. A magpie coasts through the fog, shadow becoming fully formed, white tips of its wings like snowflakes as it wheels around and comes to perch on the balcony of the building opposite theirs. “You guys were on the bed.”

“Oh,” Renjun says. What must he have thought? God.

“It’s okay. I mean. He’s liked you for a long time. I was happy for him.”

Another flicker in the fog. A light, somewhere far off. The sun has started to rise, god rays cutting through, and the birds are singing in the tree branches.

“Should I be happy for you?” Jisung asks. 

“Should you?”

“You’re the one out here, hyung. I don’t think I’ve seen you get up before ten on a day off for years.”

It doesn’t mean anything — not by itself — but Renjun understands all the same. Jisung has always been smarter than they all gave him credit for. A little clumsy, a little naive — but still so perceptive. Renjun would curse him if he wasn’t right on the nose.

After all — Chenle is in his bed and he’s out here, breathing in the frosty air and watching the world wake up. 

“Be happy for me, then.”

“You’re not happy, though.”

“No,” Renjun says. “I suppose I’m not.”

“Do you not like him?”

“Not at all. Isn’t that the problem?”

“You tell me.”

The smile Jisung gives him is small. It’d almost be a smirk if not for the softness of his eyes.

“Well, yeah,” Renjun says. “It is.”

He’s not sure what else he’s supposed to say. He’s not even _sure_ of what he’s saying. What does he feel? It wasn’t some great moment. It wasn’t like a lightning bolt hitting him, like all the books said it was. It was just a realisation. There was no great cataclysmic event. Just a build up of all the little things — of all these fond gestures and revelations. They way Chenle smiled into his kisses. His little ‘I love you’s, pressed against Renjun’s skin, whispered into his ear. The way Renjun couldn’t avoid him — a moon pulled into his orbit. He hadn’t noticed it, he’d just moved with it. Maybe he’d been blinded by Chenle’s brilliance, but he thinks it’s a poor excuse to blame him when the answer is really himself. He hadn’t wanted to look at it until it was too late.

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He’s still humming. Still looking out across the block — still smiling. No words pass his lips and Renjun wants to fill in the gaps. 

“I like him a lot.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Hyung,” Jisung laughs. “C’mon. Don’t treat me like that.”

“So it’s obvious.”

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

Renjun breathes out. He supposes not. 

“Then what do I do?”

“I’m not your advice dispenser,” Jisung says. He squeezes Renjun’s shoulder and drops his arm to his waist, shuffling closer to him as a full body shiver goes through his frame.

“Are you cold?”

“Aren’t you?”

Renjun laughs. His toes are numb and he can’t feel his lips and there’s a strip of skin where his hoodie is riding up that he’s pretty has turned to ice. “Yeah. Let’s go back inside.”

On the couch Jisung pulls the duvet over both their heads and the two of them huddle together, knees almost touching. Jisung turns his phone screen on and off and it’s like a fog light, blinking morse code against the dome of the blankets. 

“Is this better?” Renjun asks. Jisung grins at him, hair falling across his eyes. 

“Yeah. It’s better. How about you, though?”

“I’m…” Renjun trails off. He glances down at his hands — still pale from being exposed to the cold air for so long — and turns them over. There’s an angry red cut below his pointer — foil from a cup of noodles that had sliced him while he was tearing it off. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to, though,” Renjun says. He sighs and rubs at his birthmark like it’s a spot of blood he can never wash out. When he looks up at Jisung he’s still smiling — something soft. It’s like they exist in liminal space — here is somewhere Renjun feels safe. He could let it all out here, duck his head out of the blanket and leave it trapped underneath. 

Nothing's stopping him.

"It's just kind of terrifying," Renjun says. He says it in a whisper — like by speaking it out loud he's invoking something. 

"He's like that, isn't he?" 

"There wasn't supposed to be feelings." 

Jisung purses his lips and then lets out a sigh. "But there are?"

"There are." 

"I guess you choose, then. He's in your bed."

"I can't believe I'm taking advice from someone who's never even kissed anyone." 

"You don't need to experience something to know about it. He's my best friend, hyung. I know him well enough. I know you, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not as opaque as you think you are." 

"Ah," Renjun says. "I guess so. Donghyuck always likes to tell me that." 

"Does he know about this?" 

"More or less." 

"And?" 

"He told me I'm an idiot and that he loves me and wants me to be happy."

"You make Chenle very happy."

"I know," Renjun says. Jisung's hands close over his — dwarfing him — and he doesn't know what to do.

(He knows what to do, but it's a terrifying step forward. Like wading into uncharted waters with no life jacket.)

"That's all I can really say." 

Maybe he's right. 

"I don't know if making him happy is enough, though," Renjun says.

"That's okay too." 

"So much for not being my advice dispenser." 

"You're the one making the choices. I'm just listening."

He's right. 

"I'll be happy for you, hyung. Be happy for yourself, too?" 

It's as much of a blessing as he'll ever get. 

Renjun ducks his head out of the blanket and breathes in a lungful of cool air. Beside him Jisung does the same, emerging like a dragon from a lair — like someone seeing sunshine for the first time. The fog is still thick outside, but the sun is cresting over the tops of the buildings and the light is becoming brighter — everything turning gold and hazy, a picture perfect moment wrapped in stillness.

“Are you going back to bed?”

“Not now,” Renjun says. Chenle will sleep in — he was up late last night, playing games with Jaemin and Jeno. They’re lucky if they’ll see him before noon.

He has plenty of time. Plenty of time now, and plenty of time in the future. They’ll work things out.

“Do you want to go out then?”

Their manager is asleep. He’ll tear his hair out if he’s found they’ve gone out again — and Renjun grins at that. There’s something objectively better about sneaking out — about walking the streets of Seoul while everyone dozes above their heads. About being free — forgetting about SM, about NCT — just for a few hours. 

“Let me get my coat,” Renjun says. Jisung’s whole face splits into a grin, eyes lighting up, hands waving as he bounces to his feet.

“Me too, me too.”

Renjun slips back to his room, cracking the door and peeking in. Chenle is still fast asleep — curled up in the fetal position, only the very top of his head poking out of the blankets. He doesn’t move a centimeter as Renjun pulls his coat from his closet, and Renjun stops before he leaves. The light is murky and monochrome, but it doesn’t stop his heart from jumping a little. Butterflies in his throat and a surge of something he can’t quite put his finger on.

He doesn’t want to name it yet — or maybe ever. 

The door falls open a little more, a long beam of grey light spilling across the floor.

“Hyung?” Jisung whispers.

"I'm coming."

It scares him, but he thinks it’ll be okay.  
  
  



End file.
